


Chasing That High

by wizened_cynic



Series: Dress Your Family in Kevlar and Armani [17]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Babies, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizened_cynic/pseuds/wizened_cynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily might be high, and Rossi tries not to strangle their baby. Meanwhile, Reid gives terrible advice.  A cautionary tale for new parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing That High

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I scribbled to cleanse my mind after **amichevole** filled my brain with horrible thoughts of gruesomeness and despair one night.

"I can't believe she's always this hungry."

Emily winces as the baby latches on for the fourth, maybe fifth time that hour. The lactation consultant did tell her about babies feeding more often when they hit their first growth spurt, but this is beyond "more often". If it were blood instead of milk, Emily would consider breastfeeding to be her eight-day-old daughter's valiant attempt at exsanguination.

"Believe me, I can," says Rossi, who thinks by changing all the diapers, he's getting the raw end of the deal.

He's _not._

It's not as bad as the first few days, before her milk came in, when she seriously thought about calling JJ in Hawaii and cursing her out. Emily believed -- and still believes -- in all the literature about breastfeeding being the best thing she could do for her baby, but honestly she might have given it a second thought if _somebody_ had had the decency to warn her about engorgement or the toe-curling pain when the baby starts to suckle or the way her let-down reflex seems to have a mind of its own.

Still, whenever she looks down at the face of her daughter, scrunched up in earnestness as she greedily nurses, Emily knows she has never wanted anything more.

"It's probably because you're high," Reid tells her when he comes to visit with a three-pack of Gerber onesies and a plush Dalek that Rossi stares at in horror. "Your body is being flooded with oxytocin, a feel-good hormone that encourages bonding between mother and child."

Emily's done more drugs in her youth than she likes to admit, but there is nothing in her experience that comes remotely close to this. For the first time in her life, she actually feels that she has all her ducks in a row, that everything's all right and she hasn't fucked anything up. Granted, there's a good chance she is feeling this way out of self-preservation, because otherwise she probably would have died from the combination of childbirth, sleep-deprivation, and the fearful realization that she has no idea what the hell she is doing.

It helps that Dave doesn't seem to have any idea either, which means he is willing to go along with whatever Emily says most of the time.

After a mild panic attack (which Emily wishes she could have recorded on a camera, because David Rossi being completely flummoxed by a week-old baby is possibly the most amazing thing Emily has ever seen), Rossi manages to be convinced into tiptoeing beyond the safe territory of diaper-changing and try burping the baby.

"Be careful you don't crush her hyoid," Reid suggests, earning a glower from both Emily and Rossi.

"I don't think this is right." The book says to sit the baby up on Rossi's lap and place the heel of his hand against her stomach, letting her chin rest on the top of his hand. Emily can see why her husband is nervous; from afar, and given the look of bewilderment in the baby's eyes, it does look as if Rossi is trying to strangle her.

"No, you're doing great," Emily cheerleads. "You're not hurting her. Just pat her on the back gently so the air bubbles can move up."

"I can't watch this," Reid says and gets up to leave the room.

Emily holds her breath as Rossi lets the baby lean forward into his hand -- she's so tiny, she almost fits perfectly into his palm -- and starts patting her back. She has never seen him so focused, so determined to get something right, scared and in love and in awe of this brand-new person they've brought into the world, and in that moment she knows that she could not have chosen a better man to be the father of her child.

"Come on, sweetie. Burp for Daddy." It's the closest to cooing Rossi might ever get and their daughter must know this as well, because she obediently spits up all over Rossi's jeans and then looks vaguely pleased with herself. Mild annoyance flashes across Rossi's face, but he must be high on oxytocin too because his grimace turns into a self-satisfied smile. He's thinking the same thing Emily does on a regular basis: _At least we haven't accidentally killed her yet._

Exhausted from the whole ordeal, the baby closes her eyes, eyelids fluttering shut as she droops in Rossi's hands, still propped up in the burping position.

"Am I supposed to move her?" Rossi asks Emily. "I think she's sleeping, but it can't be comfortable for her."

"Give her five minutes," Emily says, kissing him over the downy head of their baby as she heads towards the kitchen. If Reid weren't here, she probably wouldn't even bother with a shirt, but Rossi gets possessive and Reid has enough complexes as he does.

As if on cue, her daughter emits a squeaky wail several minutes later, giving Emily just enough time to scarf down the remaining portion of the shepherd's pie her mother's cook brought over.

"You're hungry again?" Emily ask her daughter as Rossi passes the baby back to her.

"I'm going to change into new pants so she can throw up all over them," he says.

"Definitely high," Reid comments, and ducks just in time so the plush Dalek doesn't hit him squarely in the face.


End file.
